


Focus and Curiosity

by hesterbyrde



Series: Words are Living Things [1]
Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, No Spoilers, Safe Sane and Consensual, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: If someone had told Will two months ago that he would wind up regularly sleeping with his psychiatrist, he would have laughed in their face. Not just once, but twice. First for the absurdity of the idea in general. Just the thought of someone carrying on a sexual relationship with their therapist was ridiculous. Never mind that it would also be wildly unethical and illegal. But then he would also laugh at the sheer thought of having a psychiatrist in the first place. He'd avoided them like the plague all his adult life, and largely succeeded save the required eval after he'd been stabbed in the line of duty back when he was a cop.Needless to say that hadn't gone well.But this arrangement with Hannibal Lecter was going very well, strangely enough. Hannibal seemed content to let Will steer the course of his therapy. When Will didn't feel like talking, Hannibal would keep the conversation superficial. Or they would talk about whatever case Will was currently working on for Jack. And when Will did feel like talking, he had to admit some of Hannibal's insights into the quandary of his personality were actually enlightening.And it didn't hurt that the sex was amazing.





	Focus and Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings all and welcome to my offering for Hannibal Cre-ATE-ive's #JustFuckMeUp kink fest!
> 
> I've written a fair amount of BDSM and Dom/sub stories in the past, but I've never had a character break out the nipple clamps... so here we go!
> 
> There are no serious warnings to speak of. There is frank discussion of a murder scene in the beginning of the fic. All the BDSM aspects are safe, sane, and consensual. And there's no spoilers, as the fic takes place at a nebulous point somewhere in very early season 1
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for the beta! If there are any grammar/spelling errors, please let me know!
> 
> Thank you in advance for reading! I hope you enjoy the fic! Happy Fest!

fo·cus  
ˈfōkəs/

1\. the center of interest or activity.  
2\. pay particular attention to.

 

cu·ri·os·i·ty  
ˌkyo͝orēˈäsədē/

1\. a strong desire to know or learn something.  
2\. a strange or unusual object or fact.

 

***

If someone had told Will two months ago that he would wind up regularly sleeping with his psychiatrist, he would have laughed in their face. Not just once, but twice. First for the absurdity of the idea in general. Just the thought of someone carrying on a sexual relationship with their therapist was ridiculous. Never mind that it would also be wildly unethical and illegal. But then he would also laugh at the sheer thought of having a psychiatrist in the first place. He'd avoided them like the plague all his adult life, and largely succeeded save the required eval after he'd been stabbed in the line of duty back when he was a cop. 

Needless to say that hadn't gone well.

But this arrangement with Hannibal Lecter was going very well, strangely enough. Hannibal seemed content to let Will steer the course of his therapy. When Will didn't feel like talking, Hannibal would keep the conversation superficial. Or they would talk about whatever case Will was currently working on for Jack. And when Will did feel like talking, he had to admit some of Hannibal's insights into the quandary of his personality were actually enlightening. 

And it didn't hurt that the sex was amazing. That was sort of new in the last month or so. It had been largely borne out of Will not feeling much like talking one day and as it turned out, neither did Hannibal.

And it was good. All of it was good. The sex. The therapy. The therapy-sex. And then there was the food. And the only benefit Hannibal seemed to be seeking was that of Will's company. It bothered Will a little bit. Sort of like a wound that had scabbed over cleanly, but would itch whenever he remembered it. It all begged to be torn open and examined. Will was keenly aware, that he didn't really know Hannibal that well beneath the surface of his extraordinary intellect and impeccable taste in clothes, food and… well, everything else. Normally, Will wouldn't be too keen on opening up to someone he couldn't really see inside of.

But the sex was good. The companionship was a nice break from the deafening quiet of his home life. And the therapy was working. As much as it ever worked anyway. And they both seemed happy with the current situation.

So for once in his life, Will tried his level best not to scratch.

***

On the day the sixth set of bodies dropped from a serial killer that Freddie Lounds had christened "The Photographer," Will was relieved that Hannibal didn't feel much like talking. The FBI had been chasing this one for nearly a decade with virtually no luck. No discernable patterns. What evidence there was didn't point to anything conclusive. And to call his killings sickening was an understatement. Made the Minnesota Shrike look tame and trite by comparison. 

The long and the short of it was, someone was stalking particular sets of people. Families. Couples. A pair of friends or coworkers. The killer would take pictures of them, waiting to capture intimate or memorable moments. A graduation. A promotion. A proposal. Something joyous and life-changing. And when a satisfactory picture was obtained, he would then kill everyone involved in the moment in order to recreate it with their taxidermied bodies. Often on the very spot where the event took place. This most recent set of bodies was a recreation of a picnic in a park. A birthday by the looks of it. 

A three year old had found them.

It was Will's first time on one of the Photographer's crime scenes, and he found himself by turns both grateful and guilty that Hannibal was with them. It was chilling and nauseating to find the photograph and then its real world replica frozen just the same. The limitless bliss of the moment saved forever. The smiles were perfect. Not a hair out of place. 

"Joy is fleeting." Hannibal had mused, his shadow falling across the father who stood at the grill, tongs in hand as he smiled down at his teenage daughter. "And no one knows it more than our killer apparently." But he said nothing more. That silence almost bothered Will more than the actual killings themselves.

Almost.

When Will arrived at Hannibal's office for his appointment later that afternoon, he found a somewhat less prim and put-together Hannibal waiting for him. He'd shirked his coat, rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and his normally crispy gelled hair had fallen in a soft fringe over his eyes. It wasn't the first time Will had seen him like this in his office. It usually accompanied an activity like sketching, but today he merely paced by the window, staring out at the world through the gauzy curtains.

"You look like you feel like talking about as much as I do." Will opined as he slunk towards his usual seat. He made no immediate move to sit down.

Hannibal turned, the filmy light from the window falling across the sharp angles of his face. His capacious mouth curved in an acquiescing smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I suppose that is true. And I admit, after seeing you at the crime scene today, I somewhat anticipated you might feel the same as I."

Will shrugged, still standing awkwardly by his chair. He hadn't even bothered to take his coat off. "Even we don't see something like that every day."

"Mercifully." Hannibal replied, his voice hazy and distant as he turned back to stare out the window.

A heavy silence draped itself in the space between them. Will knew what was coming. Hannibal was about to suggest they forgo their appointment and have dinner instead. Usually this was more for Will's sake than Hannibal's, but that didn't seem to be true today. He'd not seen his psychiatrist so affected by their work with the FBI before.

"I think neither one of us is interested in talking." Hannibal finally said, turning to Will and adopting an affable grin. "Whether about our own psyches or that of this… photographer. At least not here. Not so formally. Shall we have dinner? I've a salmon that needs eating. It won't last in the refrigerator much longer."

They both felt the weight of his words, heavier now in the gravity of context.

"Please." Will responded, before turning on his heels and seeing himself out.

***

Will purposefully took a longer route to get to Hannibal's house to give him a head start. A stop for gas and condoms, just in case, ensured that Hannibal would have time to settle into the kitchen before Will arrived. Will liked finding him like that, already at work over a cutting board or the stove. There was some sort of primal domesticity in the scene that spoke to him, even though he knew it was just a fantasy. The thinnest of tropes. But he let himself enjoy indulging it nonetheless. 

When he knocked on Hannibal's front door, it swung inward with a soft creak. 

"Hannibal?" Will called, poking his head in.

"In the kitchen." Came the faint reply from within.

Will followed his voice, and the smell of freshly squeezed citrus that wafted through the air.

Hannibal, swathed in a crisp apron, stood bent slightly over his marble counter, chopping away with his sword-like chef's knife. Two oranges were set aside, already juiced and zested, and a bouquet of green now lay across the board. Will watched silently as he divested himself of his coat, taking in the sight with a long, expansive sigh. The pull of Hannibal's starched white shirt across his broad shoulders. The careful, precise motion of his corded hands. And the light catching here and there on utensils and in his eyes. It was like something out of a Romantic painting. A private moment caught on canvas for all to see. But Will treasured that he was the only one seeing this in this precise moment. It would be for his eyes only.

"Purple Thai basil." Hannibal said, not looking up from the edge of his knife, but feeling Will's inquisitive gaze on him all the same.

"Can't say I've ever had anything with Thai basil in it." Will said, pulling up a chair opposite Hannibal to watch him work. "Not and known it wasn't regular basil."

"You'd find it most readily in Vietnamese cooking. In the garnish that accompanies pho and other such staples with elaborate condiments. It's set apart by a flavor reminiscent of anise, and it will be very prominent in the dish tonight." Hannibal replied, a hint of pride and pleasure creeping into his voice. "There's a bottle of wine at your elbow, Will. Would you mind pouring me a glass? And one for yourself as well if you'd like."

Will found the bottle and corkscrew, and set to work, a soft smile spreading across his lips. He was pleased to see Hannibal restored to his loquacious self. "Do I have to do anything fancy to this one? Decant it or-" 

"No, it will be fine as is." came the answer as Hannibal scooped the freshly slivered basil into a small dish and pulled out a large piece of peeled ginger. Will watched him as he worked, slicing the ginger into planks, then matchsticks, and finally into a very fine, even dice.

Will let his eyes roam around the kitchen as he sipped his wine. All the bowls were neatly lined up. The board was clean. Every surface wiped to a gleaming shine. He was pretty sure this kitchen was more clean and orderly than an operating room. And Hannibal's motions held the same manicured quality. Clean and economical. Nothing out of place. Everything in order. Hannibal had always given off an air of neatness and structure, but tonight it felt… tighter. More regimented and controlled. 

That made sense, Will thought. Everything about Hannibal made sense. But from their first meeting Will could sense something shifting around in the dark under that perfectly sensible shell of eccentricity. Something with an intelligence that prowled and watched...

"Don't think I've ever seen a case get to you before." Will said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It was the gentlest way he could think of to voice the observation. 

Hannibal's motions with the knife never slowed, as he lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. "I find a sense of order brings clarity. And with it, comfort and stability."

"Makes sense." Will replied. 

"Do you find yourself resorting to such things under stress, Will?" Hannibal asked.

Will shook his head. "Not particularly. I… I like to take myself out of the equation. Go fishing. Go out with the dogs."

"You must find yourself in the thick of the equation often then." Hannibal opined, "Since you have chosen to live so far removed from everything and everyone."

Will's mouth pulled in a humorless smirk. "Thought we weren't having a session today, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal chanced a look up at him, a smile brewing in his eyes but nowhere else on his face. "Quite right. But you did bring it up. At least about me."

"Fair." Will replied, relieved at the familiarity they now shared. Enough familiarity to tease and wheedle without the risk of drawing blood.

"Are you planning to drive back tonight?" Hannibal asked, his voice quiet.

"I… I don't want to." Will said. That answer sounded more evasive than he'd wanted, so he hastily added, "I'd like to stay. If it won't… if…"

"I would very much like for you to stay, yes." Hannibal said, sweeping the last of the ginger into a saucepan with the basil and orange juice. 

Will nodded, and took a drink of wine. Apparently, that need to exert order and control extended to him tonight. Usually they were not so forward in discussing this part of their… arrangement. It just sort of happened. But Hannibal seemed mollified by the knowledge that Will was staying with him for the evening. After he set the sauce to bubble on the stove, he returned to the counter for a drink of wine and to season the side of salmon that lay out on the baking pan.

"What bothered you about this one, if I may ask?" Will took another sip of wine to reinforce his boldness.

Hannibal pouted in thought. "Beyond the greater evil of the loss of life, I find both his methods and reasons disturbing. This killer seeks to preserve something that cannot be preserved. And by doing so he makes it even more transient that it would be otherwise."

"Picking a flower makes it fade all the faster."

"Precisely." Hannibal nodded. "Tell me, Will. Do you ever wonder about the killers you chase? Outside of the confines of the need to catch them. Find yourself wondering why? Just for the sake of knowing rather than simply understanding?" Hannibal asked, taking another sip of wine.

Will shrugged in thought. "I have to humanize them to understand them. At least to a degree. But I don't take it past the need-to-know point. Or at least I try not to."

"You try to prevent yourself from sympathizing with them?"

"I've learned there is a fine line between understanding and sympathy." Will answered. "I try not to cross it. But sometimes it's very blurry."

"Do you find it blurry in this case?"

Will fervently shook his head after taking another mouthful of wine, watching as Hannibal moved to stir the sauce as it reduced. He began worrying at the inside of his lower lip with his teeth, muffling his words. "I get his motivation loud and clear. I don't need to know what exactly made him this way."

Hannibal turned to him, cocking his head such that he looked not unlike a cat. "You're not a little curious."

"Morbidly so, yes. I mean… I don't need your fifty degrees in everything to surmise that whatever it is that made our killer this way is probably pretty deep. Some serious made-for-TV-movie stuff."

"You think so?"

"I know so. No one on pure air taxidermies people into snapshots of real life as a hobby. Barring for a moment that he has a serious and well-honed skill, the killer got to this point somehow. And sometimes to find the "why" I have to have it all worked out, and sometimes I don't. But I try to only work it out as far as I have to. I sleep better at night that way. Usually."

"What have you surmised so far? If I may ask."

Will's eyes went distant as he considered his answer. "I know he's older." He said after a moment "Forties maybe? He's been at this for awhile. And because like I said, we didn't get to where we are overnight, both in terms of skill-set, and mental state. This guy probably doesn't have a police record. Or if he does, it will be very scattered. There's… there's always been an impermanent aspect to this person's life. He'll have been… a military brat maybe? Or the child of someone who had to move a lot for work. Or… maybe there were a string of deaths in his family, and he shifted from caretaker to caretaker." He closed his eyes and reached out to find the memory of the crime scene this afternoon. The perfect Norman Rockwell recreation of reality. The intangible and fleeting made frozen and permanent. "He could never keep anything. Not things. Or people. Or places. He didn't have a favorite fishing spot. Or a pet. Or traditions. Any joy he ever attained was short-lived for one reason or another. He didn't want it to be like that for these people. He wanted to make something stay. To… to give these people their happiness forever." Will stopped talking to worry at the inside of his lips, his jaw muscles tensing visibly as he thought. Hannibal found himself wondering if Will had drawn blood.

"Joy is an ephemeral thing." Hannibal said softly, sliding the giant side of fish into the oven before retrieving his wine glass. "We ultimately keep nothing in this life. Save our own suffering."

Hannibal glanced down to see Will's clenched fist resting on the marble countertop. The skin of his hand was taut and the bones stood out stark white. Hannibal reached out and gently turned his hand over. Will unfurled his fingers with stiffened effort to reveal tiny reddened indentations in the palm of his hands. Hannibal cocked his head and then looked up at Will, once again doing a fine impression of a curious cat.

Will withdrew his hand, a faint pink flush touching his cheeks. "Sorry. Old habit."

"Often fidgeting or more destructive behaviors such as biting cuticles or nails is indicative of an anxious and overstimulated mind." Hannibal said, moving around the counter to stand beside Will, who didn't shy away from the close proximity.

"That's what tipped you off that I might be anxious or overstimulated?" Will replied dryly, a true smile tickling the corner of his mouth. 

"No." Hannibal answered with a soft smile of his own. It was Will's favorite smile. The smile that moved his eyes and nothing else. He couldn't look at it directly or he thought his head might spin. "I'm merely curious if you are simply a fidgeter, or if specifically painful stimulus is helpful to you somehow."

Will shook his head to clear it. "I've kind of always done that, yeah. Usually biting my lips. It helps me to focus on the here and now so I don't drift too far."

"Are you afraid that you might drift too far?"

"No, I'm not afraid that it might happen. It has happened. It's one thing to try and understand a killer's motivation. To reconstruct their reasoning. But there's a line where understanding turns to compassion and sympathy. Where I can start to make excuses for them. I have to stay on my side of the line. The side of the line where I'm still me."

"That must be terrifying," Hannibal said with a concerned frown that didn't quite match his utterly fascinated tone. "To lose one's self to another's point of view."

"Someone's got to do it." Will shrugged, not looking up. "I just hate how it makes me… drift."

Hannibal nodded again, his dark eyes growing distant with thought. He reached out, fingers barely brushing the halo of curls around Will's face before cupping his chin and lifting his gaze. "Since you are staying the night, I would propose that we explore this further."

Will snorted. "You want to break out the whips and chains or the facing chairs, Dr. Lecter? Or both?"

Hannibal smiled then, inviting Will to list into his arms and cradling him softly against his side. "Neither. But I do have a few other interesting things that might serve a similar purpose, if with a little less high drama."

"Oh?" Will asked, looking up at him. From this angle, Hannibal's ample mouth looked particularly inviting.

"Indeed. But first things first. Dinner. And then we shall see."

***

When Hannibal had cleared away the dessert plates, he returned with glasses of brandy in hand.

"Tell me Will. Have you ever engaged in any sort of painful play in the bedroom?"

Will had been halfway through a particularly generous sip of liquor and he nearly choked. "I… uh. No, not really. I… uh… I went out with this girl who wanted me to hold her down when I fucked her, but… I'm not really into that. Especially on a first date."

"No second date with that one I take it?"

"Jealous, Dr. Lecter?" Will had recovered enough to smirk.

"Hardly. Just merely curious."

"No." Will confirmed with a shake of his head. "No second date."

"What about it made you uncomfortable, if I may ask?"

He lifted his shoulder in a sharp shrug. "I just wasn't too keen on it. Seemed contrived. That and y'know… dangerous? I didn't know about stuff like safewords and all that back then."

"Would you feel better having a safeword tonight?"

Will quirked an eyebrow. "Do you think I need one?"

"I think that you might find value in being able to differentiate between a cathartic plea for mercy and a legitimate request to stop or adjust."

Will nodded, considering his words. "I suppose. What are you planning exactly?"

"Finish your brandy and follow me upstairs." Hannibal said, that soft and promising smile Will loved flickering through his eyes.

Will downed the rest of the amber liquid and trailed after Hannibal.

The first thing Will noticed upon entering the bedroom was that at some point Hannibal had stripped his bed and remade it with all black bedclothes. The heavy ebony duvet lay folded across the foot of the bed, revealing gleaming black satin sheets and pillows. Will felt himself shiver a little, already imagining how the satin would feel against his skin. 

Hannibal caught him biting his lip at the sight. "I take it you are appreciative?"

Will nodded, sucking on his lower lip and finding the shallow wound from earlier in the evening with his teeth.

"Clearly, you aren't the only one in need of distractions." Hannibal said, invading his space a little but not quite to the point of touching him yet. 

Will had to stop himself from closing the gap between them, already feeling himself listing into the gravity that was unique to Hannibal, in his experience. "I know. I was watching you make dinner."

"And what did you see?" Hannibal's eyes glittered in the dimly lit room, darker than the sheets on the bed.

"You… you want control." Will swallowed hard to keep his voice from failing him.

"One could say our killer from this afternoon wants control."

Will shook his head, curls tousling around his face. "He wants to freeze. To preserve. You… you understand life is in a constant state of change. You… relish its malleability. You want to influence it. To push and pull. Find boundaries and test them."

"Will you let me test some of your boundaries tonight, Will?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice now.

"You asked what I had in mind. May I show you?" He extended a long-fingered hand towards the bedside table and Will followed him, coming to sit on the edge of the bed as Hannibal opened the cabinet. He produced a slim black box and opened it to reveal a thin gold chain strung with matte black stones. On either end of the chain were slender clips, with the ends capped in black latex.

Will sat forward on the bed for a better look, his eyebrows immediately arching up towards the mass of curls on his forehead. "Nipple clamps, Dr. Lecter?" he asked.

"Do you object?" Hannibal asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"No… no it's just. I've never messed with them before and… I don't know. They seem a little… I don't know. Theatrical for you?"

"I certainly think you'll find them to be dramatically effective." Hannibal responded. "But if you have no objection to trying them, I'd like a safeword please. Just so I know the difference between genuine distress and something more bearable."

Something more bearable. The idea clung to the rough places in Will's mind. He reached out compulsively to touch the chain and then withdrew his hand. "You intend to actually hurt me tonight, don't you." It wasn't a question.

"Not in any sort of permanent way. But unless you have an objection now, yes, I do intend to cause you pain." Hannibal replied very seriously.

Will nodded, his eyes a little bewildered as he regarded the nipple clamps and their ornate chain. "I… I don't have any objections. My safeword is Kershaw."

Hannibal frowned a little. "Is that a name?"

"It's the brand of the knife I was stabbed with back in Louisiana."

"The stabbing that ultimately cost you your job on the force." Hannibal said thoughtfully. "I would have expected the name of one of your dogs, but I think that's much more appropriate. Shall we begin?"

Will nodded quickly, moving to stand and begin undressing Hannibal before he lost his nerve. He was eager to be skin to skin, but Hannibal put his hands on his shoulders and pressed him back down onto the bed. "You said that I have a penchant for control when I'm under stress, and you are not incorrect. Will you allow me to exercise that penchant now with you?"

He hesitated for a brief, honest moment before answering. "As long as you don't plan to dice me up and eat me." he responded with a smirk that pulled his lips a few seconds too late to be believable.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Hannibal replied, mirroring his smile. He was already meticulously removing Will's clothes as he spoke. He stripped off each article and laid it on the chair near the bed, all carefully folded. Even his socks and underwear were neatly creased and placed on the stack. The precision of it all left Will nearly vibrating in his skin with want. More so than he'd expected. He'd never been seduced so thoroughly just by having his clothing removed. 

"So do we just put them on or-"

"Patience." Hannibal warned him. "One thing at a time." He bore Will back until he was flat on the bed and crawled on top of him. Will instinctively arched up against him, his hands finding their way up over Hannibal's shoulders, the wool whispering sinfully under his fingers. Distantly he realized this was the first time they had properly touched all evening. Not even a kiss before now. Just closeness and lingering hands...

But Hannibal didn't let it escalate. He pulled Will's roaming hands free from his clothing, which was still infuriatingly immaculate, and pinned them to the bed. Will struggled for a moment with desperation, the satin warming against his skin as he twisted against it. Hannibal scrutinized his response, drinking in his uninhibited desire before leaning down to place a delicate kiss on Will's parted lips. He could feel the raw place inside of his lip where he'd bitten down earlier that night. Will knew he felt it, and fought not to struggle again, or make any sound. His skin itched at the thought that he was giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted without much of a fight. But Will couldn't help it. He wanted more. More sensation. More of Hannibal. But Hannibal seemed content to lay a circle of lazy kisses around the outline of Will's mouth, before drifting down the hollow of his throat.

When his mouth found Will's left nipple, Will sucked in air sharply. Hannibal looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked. "Something wrong?" he asked, his lips bare millimeters from Will's over sensitive skin.

Will shook his head, his brow a little pinched. "I just… expected you to bite for some reason."

"Is that what you would like?"

"I… don't know. I think so?"

"Mmm…" Hannibal hummed noncommittally and continued to lavish attention on Will's nipple, laving it with his tongue, and then finally taking it in his teeth. But he didn't bite down. He just gently scraped at the sensitive skin, making Will moan in frustration. 

"You want it to hurt." Hannibal opined, not looking up this time. His words whispered out over Will's skin, raising goosebumps.

Will nodded helplessly, closing his eyes. 

"You want me to focus you. You want to think of nothing but the here and now."

Again he nodded, this time a little more frantically.

Hannibal moved on to the other nipple, teasing it until both of them were standing up perky and straight. "Very well." He sat back on his heels, straddling Will's thighs, and reached back to retrieve the nipple clamps from their box on the bedside table. 

"Tell me if it's too much. I want to leave these on for a bit, so it won't do for the sensation to be too intense. Not the first time anyway." Hannibal advised him. Again, Will nodded, all coherence gone from his grasp.

Hannibal applied the first clamp and began to tighten it. He watched Will's face as the latex covered metal bit into his flesh and he hissed through his teeth. "I think that should do it." he said when a thready little moan escaped from Will's throat. When he applied the second clamp, Will couldn't stop himself from crying out in earnest. His chest heaved, making the gold chain and its onyx beads glitter in the dim lamplight.

With the clamps secured, Hannibal skated his hands up Will's ribs, his thumbs brushing over his freshly clamped nipples making him arch and squirm. Hannibal looked down between his legs, where Will's cock lay in an angry, red curve along the swell of his stomach. A drop of precum had already beaded at the tip. He reached down and gave it a few loose strokes, shaking a few more reedy cries from Will's throat. 

"I'm going to ruin your suit." Will managed to say through his clenched teeth.

Hannibal leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was more teeth than anything else. The wool on his suit chafed over Will's overstimulated nipples sending little electric sparks zinging through his already tense body. "I would sacrifice every suit in my wardrobe for this sight. You're exactly as I envisioned you. Your skin, alabaster white against the black frame of the sheets. The scintillating chain sparkling every time you shift and breathe. You're beautiful in your vulnerability. You should see yourself. Let me show you, hmm?"

Will was speechless, his sapphire blue eyes wide and dark as he took in Hannibal's words. Not waiting for an answer, Hannibal helped him from the bed, leading Will around to the large mirror that hung above the fireplace, precariously angled so that it reflected the whole bed. He positioned Will so the bed was still the backdrop, framing them both in the liquid black expanse. He stood at Will's back, and took hold of his cock again pumping it in a loose, lazy rhythm. He went still and nearly limp as he leaned back against the broad expanse of Hannibal's chest.

"Look." He forced Will's chin up towards his reflection as he stroked him, and found Will was still struck dumb at the sight. Sweat was beginning to gather at his hairline and his pupils were blown black with want. A flush spread like scarlet ink over his skin, gathering around his abused nipples and in his cheeks as he panted open-mouthed.

"Do you like your clamps? They look beautiful on you." Hannibal asked, his breath hot against Will's ear. 

Will nodded fiercely. "They… they hurt." he managed, knowing the words were obvious but their meaning was not. Not to Hannibal.

"Would you like it to hurt more?"

Once again, Will nodded, his eyes cinched shut, unable to look at himself and admit to his desires. 

"Very good." Hannibal said, with a pleased smile. He released Will's cock, making him groan with disappointment, and took hold of the string of onyx beads on the chain. His other hand came to grasp Will's jaw, fingers digging lightly into the muscles on either side. "Open your mouth." Will complied eagerly, like a hungry baby bird. Hannibal slipped the beads in between Will's teeth and tapped his jaw for him to close.

As the tension on his nipples rose, Will moaned aloud through his clenched teeth. He shivered and arched and fought to find a balance between his suffering and his desire to suffer.

"Beautiful." Hannibal whispered again, more to himself than to Will, as he dragged his hands over the arches of Will's hipbones. "Touch yourself." he ordered, his voice gentle but unquestionable. "I'm going to get undressed. Don't look away from your reflection. Pull on the chain if you get distracted. And I think it goes without saying that you shouldn't bring yourself to orgasm yet. I'll take care of that. Just focus on your reflection. Let yourself see what I see."

Will moaned again in response, the chain in his mouth preventing a more articulate answer, either by words or nodding. Hannibal made sure he was steady on his feet before he stepped away to begin meticulously removing and hanging up his suit.

Will stayed rooted to the spot, his hand working his length in languid strokes. He could hear the whisper of fabric as Hannibal undressed. It made him want to turn away and watch. Any excuse to turn away from his own tortured and debauched reflection. He couldn't recall recently looking in the mirror for any reason other than to shave. And yet here he was in this decadent chain, slowly stroking his cock like he was putting on a show. It felt like it should feel ridiculous. No one was looking but him.

With that thought he pulled on the chain sharply with his teeth, drawing a cry for his trouble. But it renewed his focus. He heard Hannibal still for a moment behind him, somewhere out of view. He knew he was watching. Enjoying the sight. And he could see the appeal if he was being honest. Especially when he would tug on the chain with his teeth. All was exactly as he wanted. He was exactly as Hannibal wanted. Chained and writhing, and drawn up as tautly as a bowstring. But malleable. Hannibal had put him here. This pose. These decorations. This level of suffering. He was an artist in this as surely as he was with charcoal and paper. 

And likely this was merely a study. Not the finished piece of art.

When Hannibal returned, he was fully nude, his cock already thickening in response to the sweet sounds Will was making in his ecstatic distress. He stepped up behind Will, replacing his hands with his own. "Very good, Will. Drop the chain for me." Will complied, drawing a small whimper as the chain fell from his lips and the weight tugged on the clamps. "Did you like that? Do the clamps serve their purpose?"

Will nodded, his breath coming in pants as the soft blush crept across his chest.

"Good. Good. We can play with them again sometime. But I'm going to take them off in a moment."

Will let out a frustrated moan at that.

"Don't worry. Removing them is more painful than applying them. And your nipples will be very sensitive after." Hannibal promised. "Tell me what you'd like next, Will. Would you like me to fuck you?" He used his free hand to pull Will back against his chest and let him feel his erection pressing against his ass.

Will made a plaintive little sound and nodded, words escaping him again.

"How would you like it? From behind? Face to face? With you on top?"

"F-face to face." Will managed, barely keeping his thrusting in check as Hannibal played with him. "And- and would you play with my nipples? While you're… while-" he lost his grip on his voice as Hannibal pulled on the chain.

"Of course." he purred in his ear, inhaling the scent of his sweat-damp hair. "Of course. They're going to hurt if I do, but I think you know that. Do you want anything else?"

Will shook his head, biting his lips with his body caught between the desire to thrust and pull against the chain.

"Very well. On the bed then. On your back." He encouraged, patting his hip and following him. He positioned Will against the pillows with his thighs spread around Hannibal's hips so that their cocks brushed together. Hannibal gently released the first clamp and Will nearly screamed as the sensation returned in a sparking rush. Hannibal thumbed at it gently, admiring how Will fought between the urge to pull away and the desire to chase the sensation. He did scream when the second was released, and this time, Hannibal replaced the tightness of the clamp with the wet suction of his mouth. Somehow his mouth was worse than the pinch of the clamps. His tongue felt impossibly rough and hot enough to burn or perhaps brand. That image soaked into Will's mind as he arched against Hannibal's ravening mouth.

Hannibal withdrew for a moment, rolling to his side to fetch a condom and the lube they kept in the bedside table. Unexpectedly, he pressed the bottle into Will's trembling hand.

"Open yourself up for me, please?" he said with a coquettish smile. "I want to enjoy my handiwork a little longer."

Will's hand shook as he lubed up his fingers and started to work himself open. It wouldn't take long. Not as long as their first time together, but they didn't do this regularly so it still took some effort. Will wanted to rush this part. To hurry up and have Hannibal inside him. There was something embarrassing and vulnerable about doing this himself. Usually Hannibal did this part, distracting Will with his lips and with filthy words breathed into his ear. But the feel of Hannibal's hot mouth on his chest again sent all self-consciousness fleeing from his mind. Will set about working his hole open in tandem with Hannibal's ministrations. He pressed hard, hissing at the burn when he would feel Hannibal's teeth and eased off when Hannibal laved his abused nipples with the soft flat of his tongue.

"Fuck… please Hannibal. I'm ready. I promise I'm ready." the words tumbled from Will's desperate mouth.

"On your back then." Hannibal replied, pulling himself over Will and propping his thigh up over his shoulder. Hannibal quickly rolled on the condom and applied extra lube to his cock. Then he pressed in all in one slick, delicious slide. Will practically went into convulsions under him, gripping and pulling at Hannibal and the sheets and anything else he could reach. He wanted more. So much more. But Hannibal remained still, stroking his sweat matted hair out of his face and taking a moment to savor Will's desperation.

"God… Hannibal move. Please move." Will heard himself say.

Hannibal gave him a smile that would cut glass. "I don't think I've ever reduced you to begging, Will Graham." 

Will bared his teeth, arching up against Hannibal's chest, relishing the feeling of his chest hair tickle his over sensitive nipples. "Don't get used to it." he ground out.

"Oh, I think I should." Hannibal replied, his hips beginning to swivel as he worked himself deeper into Will's ass. "You seemed to enjoy your present. And this is not the last time I intend to use it. Maybe next time I'll put them on, slip a cockring on you, and let you work yourself on my cock with the chain in your teeth. What a lovely sight you would be like that. Hurting and desperate. You would beg then. Eventually. When your desire for pleasure finally overwhelmed your desire for pain."

"Fuck." Will breathed, arching up and spreading his thighs wider, begging for more with every inch of his being. 

Hannibal obliged him with long, unhurried thrusts that broke over Will's body in waves. "I had wanted so very much to see this."

"You wanted to see me in pain?" Will asked.

"I was curious if you would let me hurt you. Even in an inconsequential way. I admit that your openness to the idea surprised me."

"I… I couldn't." his voice shook as he gripped Hannibal's shoulders. "Not with anyone else."

Hannibal stared down at him, his rhythm unfaltering as he processed that admission. "What do you want, Will? I'll give it to you."

"Touch me. Let me come, please."

"And I'll come too."

"Yes. Just like this… Just… touch me please."

Will clung to Hannibal's shoulders as he felt cool fingers, slick with fresh lube wrap around his shaft. He jerked Will in time to his own thrusts. The pressure was perfect. The speed was perfect. Just like everything else with Hannibal Lecter. This incandescent mix of pleasure and pain was curated especially for this moment. It was perfection. And it wasn't long before Will went rigid, nails digging into Hannibal's shoulders and ropes of white splattering across his chest. His body spasmed eagerly around Hannibal, bringing him over the edge with him a moment later.

They lay there in a sweaty sticky heap for a long time, trading nothing but gentle kisses and caresses. The air around them was thick with unspoken admissions. They'd had sex, but they'd never done anything like this. This felt like a step. But neither of them was quite sure of the direction. Or if they might in fact still be moving.

"We should clean up and get some sleep." Will said, instead of voicing any of the myriad of swirling half thoughts that assailed him. His voice sounded dull and distant in his own ears.

Hannibal kissed his temple again, inhaling the scent of Will's body. "I have some pajamas you can borrow if you'd like."

"Maybe some bottoms." He answered. "I don't think I could handle a shirt touching my nipples right now."

Hannibal laughed then, a deep rumble will felt more than heard. "Agreed. Though I must admit that I approve for less altruistic reasons."

"Oh?"

"I think I would very much enjoy waking you up by playing with them."

"Tomorrow is Saturday." Will realized.

"And I should very much like to take advantage of it. And you."

With that promise lingering on the sheets, Hannibal stood and headed to the bathroom, pulling Will after him before he could answer.

He saw it again. That thing, formless and nameless, shifting under the surface of Hannibal's composure. Will wanted to pick. He wanted to scratch, and tear, and examine. He wanted to see… But the moment was fading. And Hannibal's momentum, figuratively and not, was already carrying him away in its wake.


End file.
